


Invitation

by VesperRegina



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-15
Updated: 2003-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperRegina/pseuds/VesperRegina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steps in closeness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Silent Enemy; Shuttlepod One; Two Days, Two Nights; Shockwave. Based on spoilers for Shockwave II, consequently slightly AU.

Drowsy contemplation,  
do I let you in?  
Well, this is my invitation  
but how do I begin?  
"My Invitation" by Sarah Slean

* * *

It was an invitation, not a dragnet, for heaven's sake. Yet there it was and he was caught, nonetheless. It hadn't taken him long to connect what she said to him at the table, to what she said as he held up the cake.

He'd called her on it, one night in the messhall. He was there, studying schematics on a padd, trying to find anyplace he could make improvements in the phase cannons.

He looked up when he sensed movement. She dropped heavily into the chair across from him and sighed.

"Long shift, Hoshi?"

"You have no idea."

This to the workaholic of the ship. She seemed completely unaware of the irony and she missed his small smile, utterly engrossed in her fruit salad. He went back to studying the padd. A few minutes passed in relative silence, the clatter of other personnel muted white noise.

He'd almost forgotten she was there when she said, "Would you like some?"

He looked up sharply to see her holding her fork pointed at him, a piece of pineapple speared on the tines.

He shook his head.

She shrugged.

"Your loss." She popped it in her mouth and he watched as she chewed slowly.

He said, "You're quite a clandestine operative, Hoshi."

Disconcerted, she swallowed too quickly and coughed for a moment, gasping, "What?"

"The cake."

Recovered, she ducked her head, in embarrassment, he supposed.

She said, "Captain's orders."

He leaned in closer, setting aside the padd. "Even so, it was a lovely gesture."

She said, "It was worth it to see your reaction."

He pushed forward, curious to the point of danger. "Even when I misunderstood?"

Her smile was a gentle curve. "Even then."

He felt compelled to say, "You should have stayed. I felt like I drove you away."

"Trust me, Malcolm. It would have been more awkward if I had." Her tone was gently self-deprecating.

"Does the offer still stand?" He asked, surprising even himself.

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Seriously?"

"What's a dinner between friends?" He was treading delicate ice, but he risked it anyway.

Her enchiladas were wonderful, her company even more so. Before he left, she'd promised to make him more meals, claiming she needed the practice.

He rapidly conceded he felt attracted to her, and there were times he was just tempted to torpedo all his objections to smithereens. If he let himself actually look at her, and all the intriguing facets of her character, it was easy to imagine a future with her.

He tried not to let it show. God knows he had plenty of reasons not to. Awkward wasn't strong enough to describe what a failed attempt at commitment would be. She was too much of a friend to subject to his inability. He used that thought as a weapon against his regard, censoring it whenever he could.

He couldn't censor everything, though. He knew, as soon as he'd said it, he'd made a mistake. He'd been listening to her describe the scent of the plants around them (like maple syrup), letting her words and voice wrap around him, like soft cotton, when he let slip the words that filled his thoughts.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide over the chicory blue flower she had been smelling. They were standing in a wide field, knee deep in the tiger-lily shaped flowers.

She said, "What?"

This was it, either admit or backtrack, quickly. He wondered if he made the right choice as he repeated himself.

"I said, you're a very beautiful woman, Hoshi."

Her forehead creased and her eyes narrowed, trying to comprehend the non sequitor. Her face relaxed and an instant later a mischievous smile lightened it.

She said, "Are you kidding me, Lieutenant?"

It was an out, but he didn't take it. He caught her eyes and delivered his answer with all the sincerity it deserved.

"No."

She was still puzzled, he could tell, as she tilted her head to the side. There was a pause while she considered. She said, somewhat carefully, as if unsure of her response, "Thank you, Malcolm."

She made no mention of it later, after they returned to the ship, along with the rest of the away team. She hadn't understood what he'd tried to convey, so he attempted to ignore his growing attraction.

He almost succeeded, until that fiasco on Risa. He should have known, running from problems invariably resulted in disaster. Looking for a woman that was Hoshi's complete opposite was courting emptiness, a condition he was quite familiar with. Until now, he'd never needed anything else. Hoshi promised wholeness, and the notion drew him inexorably within her presence.

Then the world exploded around them, and there was no time for thoughts like that. Events exponentially fireballed, until the Captain disappeared and the Suliban boarded, violating the ship, leaving them at the mercy of their whim. All systems were shut down, except impulse engines and the bridge, and they were forced to follow in their wake like slaves on a chain.

The fury within him burned like the Paraagen colony. Powerless to protect the ship and impotent in the face of the Cabal's presence aboard, he retreated to his quarters.

That was where Hoshi found him.

When he answered the door, he fully expected to see Silik on the other side, intent on another interrogation, or perhaps Trip come to commiserate with a bottle. The list of expectations did not include Hoshi and bare skin. Trying to cling to modesty, she had her arms tightly around her front. Thankfully for his sanity, she was clothed from the waist down, in some type of pyjama pants.

The first words out of his mouth weren't completely intelligent. "What the--Hoshi?"

She looked up at him and he was stunned by the anger in her eyes. She moved past him, into the cabin.

"Are you hurt, what's wrong?" He asked, hearing the urgency in his voice. He belatedly realized she was still almost naked, and in his quarters, a completely inappropriate situation. He stripped off his t-shirt and handed it to her, turning around to give her privacy.

He heard her say, through the muffling of the shirt, "I'm fine, Lieutenant. You can turn around now."

He did so and noticed that she still held her arms defensively around her. She continued, tight-lipped, "T'Pol. She needs your help. The Suliban, they're trying to take her from the ship. I heard them from inside my quarters, but when I tried to stop them, they" her voice hitched, "tore my shirt from me."

He could feel his face tighten in anger.

"Are they still there?"

"Yes."

He grabbed another shirt, rapidly running through options. He wanted to kill them, he thought as he left his cabin, practically running. Yet even with the absence of the Captain, his presence still influenced him. A captured Suliban was worth more than a dead one. He needed a plan, something that would preserve T'Pol's safety and yet allow him to incapacitate the Suliban. In a matter of seconds he had it. All he needed now was backup.

It was easy enough, with Trip's help, to disable the Suliban attacking the Sub-Commander. With T'Pol's blessing, Trip set out to create havoc in engineering.

Leaving that in Trip's capable hands, he retraced his steps back to his quarters. The plan was simple-disable enough Suliban in engineering to rig a ruse which, if it worked, would break them free from the Helix. He entered his quarters, still cursing their situation.

"Malcolm."

He looked up to see Hoshi quickly stand up from sitting on his bed. She wiped her hands nervously down her legs.

"Hoshi? What are you still doing here?"

"I-I didn't want to be out there with _them_." She said the last word with a vitriolic fervor, so like his own emotions. She crossed her arms again, and shivered.

"Are you sure you're all right?" He stepped closer to her.

"I told you, Malcolm. I'm not hurt. What about the Sub-Commander? Is she okay?"

"She'll be all right."

He could see the self-blame before she said, "I was so useless."

"I'm sure you did what you could."

"Those are empty words, Lieutenant, you know that," she accused.

"No. You don't understand, Hoshi. You did what you could. There is no shame in retreating when you are outnumbered, and there should be no humiliation in asking for help."

He was now close enough to her to see her lower lip trembling, whether with anger or some other emotion, he couldn't tell.

"It's just with Jon-Captain Archer gone, and the Suliban, I, I--" She looked up at him. "Do you feel as out of control as I do right now?"

With her wide eyes and smooth skin and lips soft in shape, she was beautifully open, her expression transparent, appeal for understanding pronounced and distinct. The faith that he would answer truthfully was painfully implicit in her gaze. So much trust.

He answered, his voice a mere whisper, "Maybe more so."

He could feel the heat radiating from her and smell her perfume, warm citrus. The atmosphere subtly shifted, the seconds seeming to lengthen.

She said softly, "Malcolm?"

He cleared his throat and stepped back.

He said, "I can show you some hand-to-hand combat skills later, if that would be all right with you."

"I'd appreciate that, Lieutenant." She walked to the door, but before she reached it, he stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

"Wait, Ensign, I'll walk with you."

"Thank you."

He nodded. They walked in silence back to her cabin. At her door she looked up at him and said, "I'll return your shirt later."

Her door swished back into place and he ran his hand through his hair, wondering if she knew what he'd almost done, how close he'd come to kissing her.

Relative peace settled on the crew, after the trial was over, their Captain back. Routine quickly took over. There was a sense of comfort now, the edginess of the first rocky year out in space gone now. All were a little wiser now, older in experience, some of the gilt of excitement worn off. Of course, he'd expected it, his slightly pessimistic outlook having dictated this reaction a long time ago.

Hoshi still occasionally made him dinner, a custom he treasured. It was no secret to the rest of the crew, yet nothing was ever said.

Sometimes he thought she was as unattainable as T'Pol, a fantasy, the unreachable star. Relationships took time to develop, he mused as he watched Hoshi, firing at the glowing ball that served for a target. Her skills had improved greatly in the past months, her percentages up to eighty. Once she'd learned to relax, her aim was much better.

The question was if he wanted to invest the time, when he knew she didn't feel for him the way he did, didn't know how much he cared for her, how much he wished she could stay with him for the rest of his life.

"Oh my God." He didn't even realize he'd spoken until she turned to look at him, lowering her phase pistol.

He stared at her, and she said, "Malcolm? What's wrong?"

Oh, this was terrifying. It was one thing to know he found her attractive, but it was completely, utterly disturbing to realize he was in love with her.

Hoshi waited, concern wrinkling her forehead.

Distractedly, he answered, "Nothing, Ensign. You're doing well, continue."

She looked at him a moment more, as if expecting him to say more. When he didn't she went back to the target shooting and he backed up against the armory's torpedo console, suddenly needing support.

Love. He thought he'd been in love before. All those women in his past, Deborah, Rochelle, lovely women all and he'd treated them well, but they all left once they realized they couldn't have all of him. Smart women, they knew he wasn't ready for anything deeper than a good time. Now he was imagining a life, not a few weeks, or months, but a lifetime, with a woman he hadn't even kissed.

She was now standing in front of him, hand on her hip in the classic pose of impatience. He looked up to see her eyeing him with a worried look.

She said, "Are you sure you're all right, Malcolm? You seem a little...unfocused. We can cancel the rest of this session, if you'd like."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, before looking at her again. "Maybe we should, Ensign. We'll pick this up again later."

He started to head out of the armory, but before he reached the door she called after him, "Malcolm." He stopped and turned to face her. She continued, "If you need to talk, you know where to find me."

There was nothing but friendly concern in her voice and he looked down, unable to meet her eyes, afraid of what he might reveal.

"I'll keep that in mind."

He quickly strode out of the armory and headed straight for his quarters. Once there, he sat down on his bed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He looked up, startled, when his door chime sounded.

A familiar voice came through the door.

"Hey, Malcolm, did you forget?"

He stood up quickly and slapped the control to open the door. Trip stood on the other side.

"Ready to get your butt kicked?" He asked, an excited grin on his face.

"As I recall, Trip, I won the last game," Malcolm answered tiredly.

"Well, give me a chance to even the score. Come on, let's go." He practically bounced on his heels with eagerness.

"Is there any way I can beg off? It's been a long day."

"It's barely 1900 hours, Malcolm. What's wrong, Hoshi tire you out?"

Malcolm's head snapped up so quickly, Trip winced in sympathy. At the glare in Malcolm's eyes, he backed up a step and said, "Whoa, I'm pretty sure that's not the reaction I was looking for. Did you guys fight or something?"

Malcolm muttered, "Or something."

"You know, Malcolm, Hoshi can be a little blunt sometimes, whatever she might have said, she probably doesn't realize--"

Malcolm cut him off sharply, "It was nothing she said, Commander. I just--" his jaw worked for a moment, "I heard your comment wrong that's all."

There was a pause as Trip mentally ran through their conversation. Dawning comprehension finally came, bringing with it a large satisfied grin.

"Well," he said, drawling out the word, "congratulations, Malcolm, it's about time you finally figured it out."

"What's that?"

"Oh come on, Malcolm. I'm not stupid, and I don't always have my mind on the engines of this ship. It would take a pretty oblivious man not to notice how much you mention her name, things she's said, or the way you anticipate your dinners with her. You're in love with her."

"You're presuming a lot, Commander."

"I'm not presuming, though, am I?"

He turned his back to Trip, walking further into the cabin. Trip walked in, allowing the door to shut.

Malcolm swung around to face Trip, saying, "Can we drop this, sir? It's not something I'm comfortable discussing."

"Why, what are you afraid of, Malcolm?"

Malcolm said nothing.

"Malcolm, I realize you're a private man, but I'm your friend. You know the word friend, right? Someone you can share with?"

Malcolm crossed his arms, the defensive gesture boldly declaring his reluctance. His voice was stubbornly evasive, "It's been a long day, Commander. I just need sleep. So I can be," he affected a passable imitation of Trip's drawl, "'bright and bushy-tailed' come morning."

Trip exhaled loudly through his nose, frustrated. "Malcolm, you can be such a--" He cut himself off, trying to contain the emotion. Collected, he continued, "Fine, you don't want to talk about it, I can't make you. You've confided in me before, but apparently you have to be on the brink of death for that."

Malcolm flinched.

Trip turned to go and had almost pressed the button to open the door when Malcolm spoke.

"Have you ever really been in love, Trip? I thought I knew what it was, but it turns out I never did know. All this time, I was falling in love with her, and I didn't even know."

Trip turned around.

Malcolm continued, "She thinks I'm her friend. How do I even begin to let her know? Should I even?"

"Listen, Malcolm. We didn't come out into space to ask questions like that. Life is made of risks. Everything is worth a chance, friend. You probably feel it's not worth it, but whatever you decide, I feel like I've come to know you, and I would rather see Hoshi with someone I know will take care of her. She could be good for you."

"Your blessing, Commander?"

"For what it's worth. Good night, Malcolm."

"Good night, Trip."

It wasn't enough, Malcolm thought. The problem seemed insurmountable, yet the solution was incredibly simple-upset the delicate balance of friendship he had achieved with her. All he needed was to say the words, but their context had not yet been established.

Time, he needed time. Time to let it grow, to let his love flourish in the atmosphere of friendship. So he kept the words inside, yet his actions still spoke for him. Gentle touches on her shoulder, a smile across the bridge, and he soon discovered the silent language came easily to him.

He now shared the secret with Trip, who could never quite keep the smile from his face every time he caught Malcolm alone with Hoshi. It was a silent, discreet ribbing, so subtle T'Pol would have been proud of the restraint.

Trip asked him, months after that conversation, as they sat in Malcolm's quarters, a few drinks making them warm, "How goes the courtship, Malcolm?" They had long since abandoned the card game, turning instead to conversation.

Malcolm said nothing, shook his head with a smile, and tossed back another swallow.

"Why don't you just tell her? I've never seen someone move as slowly as you. What are you waiting for?" He sounded genuinely curious, no hint of the good-natured teasing he usually used when asking about Hoshi.

Malcolm answered, "Patience is a virtue, Commander."

Trip grinned. "Virtue is overrated, _Lieutenant_."

Malcolm let loose a short bark of laughter. "It does tend to have its own reward, however."

"You still seem to be waiting for yours."

The door chime interrupted and both men looked at the door as if it had metamorphosed into a Klingon.

"Expecting someone, Malcolm?"

"No."

"Perhaps you should answer it."

"What an excellent idea, Commander." He stood, a little unsteady on his feet, and pressed the control.

Trip said, "Speak of angels."

Hoshi smiled a little too sweetly at him and said, "Is this a private party or can I join?"

Malcolm held his arm out, welcoming her in. She sat down in the chair he'd vacated, leaving him no choice but to sit on the bed,next to Trip. He kept silent as Trip asked, "So, Hoshi, what brings you here?"

She shrugged. "Just looking for some company. I didn't see either of you at the movie, so I thought I'd track you down. What have you been doing?"

"Taste-testing. Want some?" Trip held up a glass, a pale golden liquid sloshing against the sides. It was almost empty.

"What is that?"

"A Malcolm specialty." Trip tipped his glass toward Malcolm in a silent toast.

Malcolm rubbed his face, a telltale sign of embarrassment. He said, "It's called a Stealth Bomber."

"What's in it?"

"Vodka, gin, tequila, pineapple juice, and soda."

She said, amusement in her voice, "Ouch. Don't tell me that's the only reason you take those injections."

"Of course not," he protested.

Trip finished off his glass and stood.

"Well, I think I've had enough. Any more, and I'll have to have a designated stretcher. Good night, Hoshi, Malcolm." He smiled expansively at them both and walked out, remarkably steady on his legs.

"How much did he have?"

"Very little actually."

"How about you, Malcolm?" The question was innocent enough, but the way she said it caused a flush to start on the back of his neck. Her voice was low, slow, coy.

He answered, cautiously, "Enough to be a little fuzzy."

A quick dart of her tongue moistened her lower lip and he unconsciously leaned closer. She swallowed and avoided looking him in the eye, an insecure reaction if he'd ever seen one.

He asked, "Hoshi, why are you really here?"

She hesitated, opening her mouth and shutting it again. Indecision gave way to determination and she said, "I came to ask a question."

"And what would that be?"

"How long before you make a move?"

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he never expected her to be so bold. Either way, he found it hard to compose an answer.

She smiled, her insecurity gone. She said, "I thought so."

She stood up and headed toward the door.

He stopped gawking and darted to his feet. "Where are you going?"

She turned around and said, "You don't want me to take advantage of you, do you?"

He said, "Maybe Trip is right--virtue is overrated."

She stepped closer to him.

"It can be, sometimes."

He asked, "Do you know how I feel, Hoshi?"

She breathed in deep, looked him in the eye and said, "I think I do."

He had to touch her, to feel the skin he was sure was soft, smooth, so he did, cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand, his thumb caressing the corner of her mouth. Her quick intake of breath told him all he needed to know, but he still had one more question.

"Do you want this?"

Her eyes drifted shut for just a moment, opening again languorously. She said, "For how long, Malcolm?"

The answer was easy. "For as long as you'll give me."

She smiled. "Why don't you kiss me now?"

So he kissed her, and her lips were soft. He whispered the words he'd kept inside for so long against them, and kissed her again when she said them back.

End.


End file.
